Island of Your Dreams

I am a fair isle of natural beauty and wondrous enchantment, a green oasis set in a vast ocean. I am clothed in a dense tropical forest which reaches down as far as the shore. There golden sandy beaches stretch for most of my length. I am bathed by warm ocean waters that glisten and sparkle in the afternoon sun. It would be fair to say that I sit in a sea of tranquillity, in an ocean of calm, in an earthly paradise that exists... somewhere out there.

The rain that falls on me is plentiful and it is usually heavy, driving in from the sea and sweeping down in sheets across my length and breadth. It may last for an hour or for a day, but when it is over I feel thoroughly cleansed and reborn. More importantly, it has made me into what I am today, a verdant jewel lush with vegetation. It has filled my forest with life of many forms and colours and of many sounds and songs.

The blue waters that bathe my shores are smooth and crystal-clear and I delight in their warm and gentle caress, in their soothing sibilant murmur. But there are times when, driven by strong offshore winds, they form tall waves that come roaring in, racing up the beach and slamming into anything in their path. And there are times when this coincides with one of the many rainstorms that lash me, and then I am buffeted by wind and drenched by rain, but I never fail to stand my ground.

Yet for all that, I am truly blessed with the best that nature can bestow... sunshine in abundance, waters that cradle me in their gentle embrace, rainfall to satisfy all my flora and fauna, beaches that form a golden girdle around me, a forest that pulses with life and is my beating heart, and... and this is vital to my well-being - a total absence of humankind! Now tell me, what more could an island like me ask for?

Our Summer Holidays

Ahhhhhhh, the summer holidays... that magic season when we traditionally go off to some idyllic destination to sample sea and sun and lazy days on the beach and renew our energies. What would we do and how would we cope if we did not have this yearly break from our labours, this annual excursion to sunnier and lovelier climes where for a few days we can live out our dreams and cast our cares away?

Taking it easy by the sea, hand in hand, exchanging wide-eyed glances, enjoying the moment as only a child can. For a moment life stands still and the ocean expanse fills one's being and gladdens one's soul. We were at the dawn of our lives and out there was a world waiting to be discovered all over again.

We were young and vigorous and full of the joy of life. We ran into the sea that late afternoon, kicking and splashing the water into a bubbly white foam around our legs. The warm water felt good on our skin as we threw ourselves into its soothing embrace and half swam half rolled around in one joyful happy-go-lucky group of friends.

We all partook of those eye-popping tecnicolour cocktails that one only indulges in when on holiday and on show. Their bright primary colours, exotic mix and decorative slices of fruit matched our exuberance and holiday spirits and we drank them down without thought to their effect on our body or our pocket. They were supercharged but so were we!

They were carefree holidays when sun and sea and fun and love merged into one whole to make a heady potion. Evening romps along the seashore where Nature conspired to sharpen our senses and heighten our delights. As the sun went down, it threw its dying but dazzling rays across a swelling sea and tinged the sand with gleaming flecks of gold. The sea surged around us, its tingling coolness lapping at our feet. They were summer days that promised much and made our spirits soar. We had youth, we had passion, we had time to lose, and we were happy.

But all too soon those balmy days were no more and summer's lease of sun and fun was quickly at an end. We came back to live on memories and hopes, though with the knowledge that there would be another summer and another summer fling.

And now, many years later and in the tightening grip of age, we look back on those heady days of youthful passion and irrepressible bravura and wish we could do it all over again if we but had youth on our side. We still go on summer holidays to foreign climes but they are not the ones where once we went and we no longer do what we once did. Summer holidays are still with us, but the days of carefree living in the sun and impetuous loving on sandy shore are long gone and will not return.

As the song says:

"♫ We had joy, ♫ we had fun, ♫ we had seasons in the sun, ♫ but the wine and the song, ♫ like the seasons, ♫ have all gone. ♫♫ We had joy, ♫ we had fun, ♫ we had seasons in the sun, ♫ but the stars we could reach were just starfish on the beach. ♫♫"

Ahhhhhhhhhhh....... those summer holidays.

Lighthouse under attack

The storm had been brewing all day and as dusk fell it came off the sea and struck land. It hurled the raging waters with full force against the rocky promontory, sending huge waves up the sides of the lighthouse that stood there, a lonely sentinel half way between land and sea.

The water swirling about its base frothed and raged and repeatedly slammed against the lighthouse’s sides, sending long foamy tentacles high into the air as though it sought to snuff the very eye of the lighthouse, the guiding beacon at its summit.

The roaring gale raged ceaselessly, smashing against the surrounding rocks and overrunning the coastal strip. Time after time it drove giant waves onto the land, engulfing everything in its path like a devouring pitiless behemoth.

As night fell the tempest showed no sign of abating. If anything, its fury was now even more terrible and its howling roar had grown deafening. In the midst of this raging maelstrom the lighthouse stood its ground whilst taking the full force of the storm.

Tall and proud the lighthouse stood, though battered by the storm.

No pounding wave nor beating wind could shake its firm resolve.

And there it stands as tall and proud as well it stood before its trial,

and bright its beacon burns to guide all ships that come in sight,

for proud the lighthouse stands, unbroken and defiant all the while.

The Old Man by the Sea

The old man would shuffle down to the seafront most days and sit on a low parapet overlooking the beach, staring out to sea for hours on end, hardly stirring. He was always on his own and it was always in the afternoon, and he would often stay there until the sun began to dip below the horizon and the light to fade. He wore a broad-brimmed panama hat to shade him from the glare of the sun and he had a small bag with him containing food and drink to sustain him during his lonely vigil. He would sit there on the beach, watching the tide slowly coming in, the waves breaking on the shore, and the gulls cart-wheeling over the water.

Today was like any other day. The sun beat down relentlessly and the sea sparkled and heaved, driven by a strong wind. The rush and surge of the sea spoke directly to his inner soul and seemed to promise welcome release from the heavy burden of old age. It beckoned to him and its freshening spray turned to a fine mist on the arms of the breeze. The old man saw and felt all this and let out a deep sigh.

The salty sea breeze reached out to him and suddenly caught the sigh, as though snatching the breath of life from the old man, and blew it over the foamy waters.

The head of the old man slumped onto his chest and he rolled forward, falling on his side onto the sand with a dull thud. He stayed there unmoving and his hat slipped off his head and was propelled by the wind across the hot sand and into the feet of a group of boys playing ball nearby. One of them gathered it up and, recognising it as the old man’s hat, ran towards him, but then suddenly stopped short, and stared. The old man continued lying on his side in the sand, motionless and peaceful as though asleep.

The boy looked round at his playmates who were calling to him to get back to the game and the boy dropped the hat beside the old man and started running back, too afraid to nudge the lying figure. The old man’s hat was caught by the wind again and rolled across the beach and the breeze cast it into the sea where it bobbed about on the waves.

The old man did not stir and did not seem to care about anything. He was past caring now and at peace with the world. This day had brought welcome release and... had not been like any other day.